“Well, at least tell me you’re going to Scotland for your honeymoon,” I reply. He shakes his head.
“No, California. Anna wants to do the Hollywood walk of fame.”
I study my brother’s face. He’s a happy man and that’s all that matters in the grand scheme of things, but the ‘Anna wants’ phrase seems to keep cropping up in every conversation we have these days. Is that how she’s going to fail him? Or is it Seb who is going to fail, adoring her too much and making the relationship one-sided: all give and no take because he’s sadly, madly in love?
“Fabulous,” is all I can find to say, holding back the words in my head that have to remain unspoken. In my heart I know she’s a lovely lady, but my brother is an interesting guy and he’s never fitted the mould. A bit like me, I suppose. Only Seb doesn’t see angels and sometimes I wonder if he thinks I’m possessed, or mad. I know he won’t entertain any ideas about an afterlife, but aside from that he’s used to thinking outside the box. My greatest concern is that Anna is rather… well, predictable, trendy. Okay, what I want to say is shallow, but that makes me feel mean and it’s not true. Then I realise that it’s the vibe again, ‘the knowing.’ When exactly the hurt will come I have no idea, but my instincts tell me it’s there, somewhere in the future. Without understanding what or how, all I can do is sit back and wait, then help to pick up the pieces.
“I’m fine,” Seb says, placing his hand reassuringly on my arm. “I love Anna and if that’s what makes her happy then I’m happy too.”
His voice breaks my train of thought. “The angels,” Seb shifts in his chair uncomfortably, “you do know it’s all a figment of your imagination? You’re an extremely sensitive person and you over-think things, Ceri. I inherited the practical skills and you inherited the creative ones. Don’t get sucked in, and remember that you can’t believe everything you read.” He fingers a book lying on the table next to him. The title is Never Alone, and it’s about a woman who sees spirits.
I nod, inwardly shaking my head, and a part of me is sad that he has no idea. It’s not that I know all the answers: if I did I would be banging his head against a wall until he listened to me. I can’t prove anything and I wonder if that’s the whole point. To believe you have to rise above needing to be shown. You simply need to see with your eyes wide open. What I do know is that so far I have a journal that shows I’ve altered the course of events for over one hundred and thirty-one people.
What that means, I have no idea.
The moment I awaken I can feel it; a sense of uneasy anticipation. I try to shut it out and concentrate on the mundane – getting dressed, brushing my hair, cleaning my teeth. It doesn’t pass, but the intensity lessens. I step outside and have to force myself not to turn around. Instead I stand for a moment, take a deep breath, and begin walking.
The sky is that shade of cornflower blue that heralds the start of a really sunny day. There’s hardly a cloud in the sky and the birdsong sounds like an orchestra tuning up before act one. Suddenly I feel much better; lighter and more optimistic. I’m worrying about nothing and I give myself a mental shake as I walk. I have to stop living my life expecting something untoward to happen; maybe it’s true what they say about karma and sending out positive thoughts to the universe. If I’m constantly sending out worry and apprehension, then maybe I’m a magnet for all the stray negativity floating around in the ether.
I break into a smile and the old lady walking past me glances my way, frowning. It makes me chuckle and I can feel the tension leaving my neck and shoulders. It’s a good day to be alive and instead of pondering about what might or might not happen, I concentrate on my surroundings. It takes about twenty minutes to walk to the office and that’s the beauty of living in a green and leafy part of Gloucestershire. I walk past the park, and the colourful blossoms breaking out on the trees are such a wonderful contrast to the constant stream of traffic in the morning rush hour.
“Ceri,” my name appears to float on the gentle morning breeze. I turn my head and see it’s my boss, Mason Portingale, striding to catch up with me.
“Morning Mason.” I’m pleased that my voice sounds cheerful and confident.
“Ready for our big brainstorming session?” He peers at me and his tone sounds accusatory, as if I might have forgotten about it. Mason can’t help being somewhat curt, it’s the way he is and I have to be careful when I’m around him. Portingale & Hughes Advertising is a prestigious firm and the moment I step over the threshold I become a slightly different Ceri: reliable, solid, an ‘ideas’ person and bubbly. A sort of robot really, divorcing myself from the things that make me different to most other people around me.
“Can’t wait,” I smile encouragingly. Actually, I’ve thought of nothing else this last week.
“I’m counting on some good ideas coming from your corner. It’s a big contract and we need to impress the Court-Abel executives with some original concepts.”
I think to myself that a ‘Good morning Ceri’ would have been nice. I was hoping for a relaxing walk into work, not a business meeting. “Of course. I’ve come up with something a little different from their usual style. However, it really does depend on what exactly they are looking for, Mason. The brief is pretty wide-ranging.” I glance at him, not wanting to connect for any longer than I have to. My instincts have always told me to be wary of him, but I have no idea why.
“Okay, run it past me.” His clipped tone infers that I don’t have a choice and the breakfast meeting has begun.
“Well, I know they are keen to keep pushing the organic content of their fruit juices, but their entire brand is synonymous with that already. Perhaps we should centre their next campaign on lifestyle.” I pause to see if I’m way off with this idea or if he’s interested, but he gives nothing away.
“And?” We stop to cross the road and I step forward, level with him; Mason seems rather annoyed I can’t match his walking pace and I keep lagging a step or two behind. He glances down at me and it’s hard to ignore the feeling that I simply don’t like this man.
“Essentially it would focus on the happiness that comes as a result of pursuing a healthy lifestyle. The headline would be ‘The sun always shines on happy people’ and I’m thinking Good Day Sunshine by The Beatles. Short, simple.”
“Mmm.” That’s it. No reaction. Oh well, we’ll have to wait and see what the rest of the team come up with.
We enter the building, sign in at the desk, and he walks off in the direction of his office without saying another word. With Mason you can never tell if you’ve upset him or he’s simply being himself. Rude often springs to mind.
A little shiver travels down my back. Wow – where did that come from? As I enter the lift I assume it’s because the sunshine outside was really warm and the lobby is quite chilly. All that expensive marble I suppose.
***
It’s a day of pre-meetings and planning before the client comes in at three o’clock for the brainstorming session. My colleague, Alex Delano, and I spend most of the morning pulling together some visuals to go with the ‘Good Day Sunshine’ idea. We search through the modelling agency portfolios for a suitable candidate whose appearance screams health, vitality and happiness.
“Love the look of this one,” Alex beams.
“Keep your mind on the work, not what’s in the bikini,” I remind him and we both start laughing.
“Such a hard job, but someone has to do it!” He rolls his eyes and raises his coffee cup. “Another one?”
“Yep, although I suppose we should be drinking